


Tension

by WhatsHappeningCowboy



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: But with a little bit of plot, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, PWP, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 12:56:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10831728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatsHappeningCowboy/pseuds/WhatsHappeningCowboy
Summary: Sole Survivor Chiv Arroyo and RJ MacCready wait out a storm.





	Tension

It’s pissing it down with rain and they duck inside the old church just as lightning starts to flash overhead, Chiv shouting over the crash of the thunder. They’ve been travelling together for weeks, and they know the drill. MacCready stands in the doorway waiting, rifle ready, whilst Chiv sweeps the ground floor, flushing out any game; but tonight they’re lucky. They chatter easily as they traipse up the stairs to the second floor, barricading the stairway behind them with a couple old filing cabinets, Chiv teasing MacCready as he lifts the heavier one, showing off, pretending it isn’t as much of a strain as it is. MacCready digs his elbow into Chiv’s ribs, tells him to _fuc- I mean, screw off_. They make eye contact, grin, hold it too long and both look away for a distraction.

Someone’s been here before, not too long ago; the stubs of burned-down candles scatter the windowsills, and an old magazine lies on the desk in the corner. It’s safe, then, and the belltower will make an excellent vantage point. MacCready flips idly through the magazine (Guns and Bullets, not his favourite but it’s got a good article on ghillie suits and he knows Hancock likes this series, so once he’s done he tucks it away in his pack for the next time they’re heading through Goodneighbor). Chiv digs out their sleeping bags, pushing them together between the wall and the junk barricade to give the added illusion of safety. He debates lighting the candles, and decides it’s a good idea; any other scavvers looking for shelter from the rain will know it’s occupied and steer clear in case they’re Raiders. He checks his Pip-Boy; it’s dark outside from the storm, but only just past sunset.

The rain doesn’t slacken for a good two hours, during which time MacCready throws together a nicer meal than they usually have the luxury of preparing and they sit together, backs to the wall, side by side, pressed comfortably against each other. Chiv closes his eyes and listens to MacCready tell him the story of Jamaica Plain and its treasure and how so many people have died trying to find it. Chiv drowsily speculates what it could be. Guns, ammo. MacCready hopes it’s just straight up caps.

Chiv dozes off, MacCready warm and solid and safe against his side, his chest filling up in that weird restless way it often does when the other man is so close to him. MacCready waits until he thinks he’s asleep and pulls his arm around his shoulder so his Pip-Boy is resting in his lap, turns the volume down to a murmur and plays the old holotape games Chiv keeps on there for him. He leans further into Chiv’s warm chest, the tiniest of sighs escaping his lips as he wonders, yet again, how he got himself in this deep. He’s on the verge of sleep himself when something changes, rouses him; the rain has stopped. Chiv starts to wake up too and MacCready hurriedly slips out from under his arm, cheeks flushed, muttering about his new high score and how he kicked his ass. Chiv grunts in reply, still half-asleep and rubbing tiredly at his face as MacCready stands and stretches, cat-like, all whip-thin and long lean limbs. Chiv watches him through heavy eyes as he pads to the window, sticks his head out, scans the landscape with his miss-nothing sniper’s gaze. _Belltower would be better_ , reminds Chiv, and the two pick up their rifles and gingerly make their way across the broken floorboards to the winding staircase at the other side of the church. Chiv’s side is cold without MacCready pressed against it, and he tries not to stare as the man climbs the stairs in front of him.

They sit on opposite sides of the belltower, rifles raised, scanning the ground far below. The wind is cold and biting, even through Chiv’s thick leather jacket, and he thinks of the thin flannel shirt MacCready wears. Thinks of him not wearing it. Thinks of him-

_Oh._

Chiv turns, gun lowering, knee clicking as he shifts.

_What is it?_

MacCready doesn’t reply, just stares out into the distance. Chiv’s right leg has gone dead and it protests painfully as he slips around the wooden trapdoor to join the other man on his side. He rubs one hand down his thigh slowly, repeatedly, as he looks out. A mile or so away, a dark shape looms from the earth, large and sprawling. A complex.

_What’m I lookin’ at?_

_Gunners._

Oh.

MacCready is watching Chiv’s hand slide up and down his thigh. His eyes are very blue in the moonlight. Fear?

_You wanna move?_

A shake of the head, a quiet murmur. _No. It’s fine._ They’re too far away, don’t patrol at night, think they’re all safe tucked up in their little bunker anyway. MacCready spits over the side of the belltower. _Should see the inside,_ he tells Chiv. _They’ve fu- messed that place right up._

_Decent loot, though?_

A shrug. Loot, yes. Danger, too risky with just the two of them. Fat Man on the roof, Assaultrons out and in. Chiv goes cold at the thought of the Assaultrons. He raises his own rifle but his scope isn’t as good as the one he built for MacCready. MacCready realises this, hesitates and then slips behind him, raises his gun in front of Chiv’s face. They crouch, MacCready pressed against Chiv’s back, and Chiv raises a hand to cover the other’s on the barrel, gently guiding the gun as he sights down the scope. He can feel the rise and fall of MacCready’s chest against his spine, the slight shift of his calloused fingers as he aims the gun, his breath warm on the back of his neck.

_See them?_

He wasn’t looking, but he concentrates now, and yes, he sees them. Three guards on the roof, and the horrible fucking robots walking back and forth, back and forth on the ground below. His mind supplies him with the sound of their footsteps and he pulls away from the scope. He can feel MacCready shivering against him, pressing tighter for the warmth, his breathing catching slightly.

 _Fuck that,_ Chiv mutters. _We’ll head out for Jamaica Plain just before dawn._

 _Mmm._ A moment whilst MacCready thinks. Travelling without the cover of night, or the difficulty of a firefight in the darkness? Not much of a choice. _Okay._

His fingers slide unnecessarily against MacCready’s hand and wrist as he pulls away and he hears the other man take an extended breath, hears it whisper into the cold night air. It’s been like this for a while, now. Tense, the air thick between them with...something undefinable. Since he watched MacCready take out Winlock and Barnes from a moving makeshift elevator in the strongest winds imaginable, nailing them both with one headshot each with a blazing fury in those blue eyes, a wild grin on his face, whilst Chiv held off the troops with his shotgun. Since the smaller man spilled his whole story to him that night in the Third Rail, half-drunk and dizzy at their success, tucked into a corner booth whilst Magnolia crooned over the speakers and he had to press his mouth hot against his ear to be heard. Since Chiv handed him the new rifle, the one he’d spent days hiding and tinkering and perfecting, _Lucy’s Vengeance_ hand-painted in the least-messy script he could manage on the stock and watched the other man’s expression go from disbelief to shimmering tearful joy and knew he wanted to make him feel like that again, always. Weeks of words held in the back of his throat, lingering touches passed off as casual, feigning sleep whilst MacCready fiddles with his Pip-Boy, tucking himself under his arm as innocently as he can. He’s fought with himself a thousand times, the same old arguments and counter-arguments, but he’s tired. He’s done. He’s accepting it.

He’s in love with Robert Joseph MacCready.

They descend the stairs again in silence, MacCready casting a backward glance over at the Gunner’s plaza with a very strange expression on his face. Chiv collects the few remaining lit candles, brings them all over to the little alcove he’d tucked their bedrolls into, hoping they’ll give off at least a little warmth. MacCready waits, watching him from beneath dark lashes, silent for once. Something is changing, the tension more palpable than it’s ever been before, an almost physical thing filling up the space in the room. Chiv is finding it hard to breath. They’ve done this a thousand times, spent countless innocent nights together since Chiv first walked into the Third Rail and got told to fuck off, no more mercs looking for MacCready, he’s the third one that day. But tonight, with the rain beginning to spatter again outside, and the candles casting a golden glow on their faces, something is happening. Something new, and different, and Chiv’s stomach is starting to swim with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

MacCready’s shivering is much more pronounced now they’re back inside, and Chiv watches as he slides past him, closer than necessary, and climbs fully-clothed into his sleeping bag. No-one in the Commonwealth sleeps in anything less, especially not in the winter. It’s full dark outside now, the storm picking up again, and whilst the church is sheltered there’s more than enough cracks in the ancient glass of the windows to let the chill night air in. Thunder rolls in the distance. MacCready is lying down, head ducked, but Chiv knows he’s watching him through half-closed eyes. He busies himself, packing away their things from dinner, methodically tidying and stowing all their gear. Behind him, he hears a small sigh.

_I left them, Chiv. I killed Winlock, and Barnes, we took down their whole crew. Why do I still feel so guilty when I see their flag?_

He knows MacCready too well. With the Gunners and bad memories so close, he’s on edge. Coming down this way was a bad idea. They’re too close to Quincy, and although MacCready has never said it in so many words, he knows they should avoid that place altogether.

 _Because you’re a good person, RJ,_ he replies, counting ammo just for something to do. _You just did what you had to do to survive._

_I don’t feel like a good person._

Chiv understands that all too well. Silver-tongued charisma gone, as it always is around MacCready, he struggles with what to say, how to comfort him, to help him forget, help him understand that it’s in the past, just like Chiv’s old pre-War gang days; it’s done with, it’s over. He isn’t a Gunner any more, and he isn’t alone. He’s his best friend, his partner, his bodyguard, his companion.

He’s Chiv’s.

_Past is past. Can’t change it, so why worry? It’s what’s happening here right now that matters._

MacCready is silent for a while, and Chiv knows he’s thinking, coming to a decision. His heart is beating very fast.

_...you’re what matters, Chiv. You’re all that matters any more._

His blood is roaring in his ears. He hears MacCready shift, hears him rustling, can’t put it off any longer, can’t repack the bags any more, and he stands as MacCready very, very quietly clears his throat.

_Chiv?_

_I’m comin’._

Beat.

_C’mon, then._

Chiv turns and his heart stops. MacCready is lying on his back, propped up on his arms, wearing nothing but his stupid hat. Chiv swallows hard. One leg is quirked at an angle, the other straight. The bedroll is open. Inviting. MacCready’s face is flushed a light pink, from what he can see in the candlelight.

 _Hurry up, it’s freezing,_ he says, stubbornly not making eye contact.

Chiv hesitates for the briefest moment, then crosses to him, pulling his t-shirt up over his head. It catches on the rough burn scar on his lower back. He tosses it on the bags, kicks MacCready gently in the side.

_Move over._

The other boy stares up at him with those blue, blue eyes. There’s fear there; fear of rejection, of consequence and failure. Chiv tries not to break the gaze, tries so very very hard not to look at his bare body. Chiv watches as he takes a deep breath and licks his lips, just the very tip of his tongue darting out in a nervous swipe. Then, the faintest hint of that familiar cocksure grin.

_Make me._

Chiv drops semi-gracefully to his knees over the other man, trapping MacCready in place with his forearms either side of his head. He’s so little, so small beneath him, but Chiv knows the fierce heart and courage hidden within his wiry frame. His thigh is between MacCready’s legs, jeans rough against bare skin, and he’s extremely aware of this. So, apparently, is MacCready, as he shifts again, almost imperceptibly, pushing down onto his thigh just the tiniest bit. Chiv flips off his stupid hat so he can see his eyes better as his pupils dilate and grow dark.

_Chiv._

It’s not a question, not a rejection, not a plea. Just his name, muttered so quietly as if he’s afraid a loud noise will scare him off. He can see MacCready’s fear in the tension of his shoulders, the shudder of his breath, the whites of his eyes. He’s just as scared himself. He’s wanted this for so, so long. His eyes travel finally over MacCready’s bare torso, his hunger-flattened stomach, over his jutting collarbones, his pale neck, his mouth where he’s chewing nervously at his lower lip, his stark handsome cheekbones where that flush is slowly deepening, and finally to his eyes. Every inch of him is beautiful and deadly. MacCready meets his gaze, determination replacing his fear. Chiv’s heart beats four times.

They move as one, their mouths crashing together as the rain outside starts beating down in earnest. MacCready’s lip tastes of blood where he’s bitten it, but Chiv doesn’t care; everything in the Commonwealth comes back down to blood. He lets his arms drop his weight, pressing their bare chests together, one hand coming up to roughly tug MacCready’s hair as the other slips to his thigh. MacCready is gripping his shoulders, his back, nails blunt and scraping against his skin. They break for air, panting, then smash together again, all teeth and tongue and desperation. MacCready groans low in his throat and it goes straight to the pit of Chiv’s stomach like the bolt of lightning that suddenly lights up the sky outside. He answers with a wordless murmur, pulling back from the other boy and holding his head down on the sleeping bag by his hair. MacCready’s cheeks are flushed still, but it’s not embarrassment any more. He grins up at Chiv, relief painted clearly across his pretty face.

_Fu-I mean, damn. I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time._

Chiv sighs.

_Why the fuck didn’t you say so sooner?_

MacCready laughs a little, shrugs one shoulder. Chiv leans down and catches his laugh, but this kiss is different, less feral desperation and more…

MacCready’s hands slide from his shoulders down his bare torso, fingers exploring the dip of his ribcage. Chiv lets go of his hair in favour of rolling them both slightly more onto their sides. The motion reminds him that his thigh is still pressed up between MacCready’s legs, and the other man lets out a shaky little breath as they move, pushing himself down against it in a little sliding motion. Chiv feels like he’s been punched in the stomach, watching MacCready as he stares down at their entwined legs and shifts again, deliberately this time, grinding himself on Chiv’s clothed thigh, lashes fluttering. Chiv’s mouth is hanging open, and he’ll be goddamned if this isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever seen, MacCready starting to unravel right in front of him. MacCready looks up at him again, eyes starting to drift into a heavy-lidded daze.

 _We can talk about it later,_ he breathes, and Chiv fully agrees.

He’s uncomfortably hard in his jeans. He rolls his hips experimentally and MacCready’s body is shivering, despite the heat building up between them. They rock together, breath coming in harsher and harsher pants, MacCready throwing his head back and exposing his throat to Chiv’s teeth and lips and tongue, Chiv groaning deep in his chest so that the sound rumbles between them like the thunder outside. His hand cups the side of MacCready’s face, his thumb slipping to press at the corner of his mouth, encouraging it open so he can drag him in for another bruising kiss. MacCready huffs in reply, rolling his bare hips against Chiv and though the roughness of the denim isn’t entirely comfortable he’s so, so hard, already feeling the tightening in his belly warning him to slow the fuck down, RJ, don’t embarrass yourself, hold on, don’t...don’t _stop, Chiv, don’t stop please oh..._

Chiv stops, half-laughing at MacCready’s dazed frown as he sits up, moving away from the other boy. His eyes are dark, full of promise. MacCready watches, trying to catch his breath, feeling the ache of denial as Chiv slowly, slowly unzips his jeans and pushes them down, smirking at MacCready, tossing them to the side before leaning back in to kiss him long and deep and torturously slow. MacCready can feel him better now, feel Chiv’s own hardened cock pressing against his, glances down as they pull apart to breathe and immediately loses his breath again as he sees them grinding together. Impatient, he hooks a thumb into Chiv’s underwear and drags them down, the other man whining quietly as he’s exposed to the cool air. He’s about the same length as MacCready, but thicker - noticeably so. He feels a momentary stab of self-consciousness which disappears the instant Chiv also looks down and an involuntary moan slips from his mouth at the sight.

 _Fuck,_ he breathes, and wraps a roughened hand around them both. MacCready can’t suppress the whine that slips out, embarrassing as it is, but it just spurs Chiv on, encouraging him to move his hand, velvet flesh rubbing together and sending sparks of pure electricity up both their spines. MacCready’s trembling, panting, and Chiv’s hand moves faster, thumb sliding roughly over their heads, smearing wetness across them both. His breath is coming shaky and quick. He lets go, his hand returns to MacCready’s face, hips still pushing and grinding, and he brushes his thumb across MacCready’s lips. He pulls a face at the taste, but the thought of them mixing together is overwhelmingly filthy, and his body jerks as he strives to get closer, closer. Then Chiv is moving, turning, losing the rhythm as he leans away and reaches for his pack and MacCready is whining at him, wondering what the fu- heck he thinks he’s doing - but then he hears the pop of a cap, and an incredibly _wet_ sound, and Chiv is back.

 _I need to get you wet,_ comes the growl, and MacCready’s cock twitches as realisation hits him right in the pit of his stomach. He’s never done that before - only ever heard the Gunners use it as an insult - but it does something to his brain, shorts it out, the idea of Chiv touching him like that. He shivers, Chiv’s fingers cold as they trail down his chest, pinch at his nipple, leave goosebumps in their wake as they round his side and move lower. Chiv’s nails drag against his ass, and he thinks he should feel embarrassed, nervous, feel something - but there’s only burning anticipation and need and want. He sinks his teeth into Chiv’s shoulder, needs to let out his tension somehow, revels in the little hiss that escapes his partner. Chiv’s fingers are hesitant, suddenly gentle, but MacCready still jumps when they brush against him. Chiv makes a crooning sound against his throat that makes him swallow reflexively.

_Okay?_

_Mmm,_ is all he can manage in reply.

Chiv presses his lips to the hollow of his throat, right where his pulse is racing, and MacCready closes his eyes under the unexpected rush of emotion. He’s been dreaming of this for weeks, watching Chiv as he slept, fingers tracing the scars on his face and imagining what it would be like to kiss them. To have him here, like this, to be exposing himself to him in such a raw way...he wonders where the heck he found the courage, but is goddamn glad he did.

 _Oh,_ he whispers as Chiv’s finger presses in, and it doesn’t feel like he thought it would. Doesn’t really feel like anything, in fact - he’d expected pain but there’s just the tiniest bit of pressure. With everything else going on, it’s difficult to focus on it, which he supposes is a good thing. Chiv is kissing down his chest, tongue flicking his nipple and making him flinch and gasp, exploring the jut of his ribs, dipping into his navel. He’s giggling, ticklish, and his hands go down to push Chiv’s head away but somehow just end up twining through his hair instead and his laughter catches as Chiv goes even lower. He’s holding his breath as Chiv’s mouth teases the line of his hipbones, the inside of his trembling thigh; and then it all comes out in a rush as he licks a long, slow line from the base of MacCready’s cock all the way to the tip. His moan is strangled and his fingers tighten in Chiv’s hair as he pushes down, as far as he can, pulls back with a harsh gasp and then goes in again.

MacCready props himself up on his elbows to watch, needing to see the obscene stretch of Chiv’s jaw, watch the line of drool and precum that slides from the corner of his mouth. There’s another finger pressing into him, and this time he does feel it, a slow stretch-and-burn that makes him shift but it’s not _bad,_ in fact...hell, combined with Chiv’s mouth on his cock it’s good and getting better by the minute. Chiv is going slowly, concentrating more on the movement of his tongue, and MacCready bites down hard on his lip as Chiv explores the most sensitive skin. He moves a hand to keep MacCready’s hips still but he can’t help but thrust up into it, feeling his mouth split in a grin and another bout of giggles work up from his chest as Chiv swallows around him. It’s too good, this is too perfect, and he feels Chiv’s lips curving into an answering smile against him. He pulls up with a messy wet pop and looks up at him and for a moment they just grin at each other, MacCready’s chest hiccuping with laughter, both feeling like total idiots, dizzy and drunk on arousal and emotion.

 _Man, we coulda been doing this weeks ago,_ says Chiv, nipping the inside of MacCready’s thigh. MacCready can only huff in reply. Both as much to blame as the other. There’s a third finger now, gently tapping against the other two and sending vibrations up inside, and now there’s no distraction on his dick and he _really_ feels it. He rocks back experimentally, brows coming together as he tries to process the sensation. It’s new, sending waves of _something_ through places he’s never felt them before, and as Chiv’s third finger slips slickly up to join the other two he arches his back and groans. It’s not funny any more, it’s just _goddamn good,_ and he whines like a kicked dog when Chiv rocks his fingers deeper. His cock is still twitching, still feeling his pulse along its length, almost in time with Chiv’s movements. He needs more, he realises - and when did that happen, when did it change from being strange-but-good to being an all-consuming need? It isn’t enough, now, he feels like he’s hanging on the edge of something _more,_ like he’s reaching for something that’s just out of his grasp, barely brushing it with his fingertips but if he can just stretch that little bit further...

_Chiv..._

Chiv looks up at him from where he’s rested his face on MacCready’s thigh and his expression is almost too much to bear. Flushed cheeks, sparkling eyes, gaze struggling to focus - the corner of his mouth curls in a lazy smile that tingles up the back of MacCready’s neck. He presses a single kiss to the inside of his thigh and it’s a quiet reassurance, an admittance that _I know, hotshot, relax._ MacCready doesn’t see how he can but trusts Chiv, so he closes his eyes and lets his head drop back on his neck and tries to just _feel,_ but it’s still not enough and though his body is on fire and his mind is starting to blank he needs _more,_ it’s still good but it’s not _enough -_

Chiv crooks his fingers, and MacCready chokes.

_Chi...oh, fu...what…_

Chiv’s laugh is a rumble against his thigh, and he does it again and again, relentless, sending white-hot pleasure burning up MacCready’s spine. It tingles even in his scalp, his fingers, his toes. His muscles are seizing, his whole lower body a line of tension, his mouth hanging open uselessly as he drools and moans and tries desperately to breathe. It’s too sudden, too much, and oh _God_ why didn’t he _know_ it could feel like this? Chiv’s mouth is back on his cock in a sudden flash of wet heat and his arms give out, dropping him back onto the bedroll, his hands coming up to cover his face and tug at his hair in a desperate attempt to use up the excess adrenaline that’s jittering through his veins. He’s racing back to the edge again, toes curling as he tries to slam on the brakes, but he’s panting and his knuckles are white on the bedroll and he’s _so so close, Chiv, I’m cl- I’m gonna - haa, ffffuhhhck, don’t, mmmh, I..._

Chiv’s fingers and mouth are gone and he almost punches him, the air shockingly cold against his wet skin. He forces open his eyes, unclenches his hands, opens his mouth to complain and glares at the other man but stops dead still at the sight of him. Chiv’s kneeling up between his legs, breath coming in little pants as he strokes himself, fingers squeezing up the length of his dick. The sight is like a hit of jet, MacCready’s thought process ends, and he reaches out instantly, takes Chiv in his hand, the other man’s head dropping back with a low moan as he touches him. MacCready’s clumsy but he’s so beyond caring, trying to pull Chiv back down towards him, shuffling himself down on the bedroll to get closer again. His legs are hanging wide over Chiv’s thighs and Chiv’s cock is thick and wet in his palm and then his hands are pushed away, he’s made to lie back, Chiv is gripping his wrists and the tip of his cock touches against MacCready and he feels a sudden rush of nervousness. Chiv sees it in his eyes, sees his gaze turn wary and dart for somewhere to look, sees his lip pull into his mouth to be worried by his teeth. He pauses and the lack of movement makes MacCready need it again, a deep pull inside and a restlessness that shakes his leg, but he’s still kinda scared and _hell,_ he doesn’t know how to feel.

_Alright?_

He meets Chiv’s eyes, sees the concern and care behind the burning arousal and beneath heavy lids. He nods, steels himself. Chiv chides him, rubbing a hand soothingly over his thigh.

 _Don’t tense. Relax. It’s gonna be good, it’s been good so far, right? Only gonna get better. Promise, RJ, I promise...wanna make it good, wanna make you feel good._ One hand is holding himself pressed against MacCready, the other slides to MacCready’s dick and strokes it slowly. _We ain’t have to do anything you don’t want, but...you’ll like it. Swear down._

And MacCready trusts him, so he shoves down the fear of the unknown and just nods. The hand on his dick is good, and the hand _in_ him was good too, so this can’t be much different, he figures.

Chiv lets go of him, grips his hip instead, pushes the head in and MacCready winces, ready for pain - but there’s just a deliciously thick stretch, and once it gets past the first bit of tension any discomfort’s gone completely, and he lets out the loudest and filthiest moan of the night. Chiv freezes and he’s shaking and MacCready wonders why he’s stopped but then looks at his face and realises _oh, fuck, he nearly...I nearly made…_ and the rush of power goes straight to his head. He’s _that_ good, feels that good, and of course he does, did he expect anything less?

He preens a little until Chiv regains control, and MacCready’s twitchy as he slides the rest of the way in, waiting in heady anticipation for the press of their hips flush together. He’s whimpering and whining and probably sounds like a goddamn embarrassment but he can’t bring himself to care. His whole body is twitching and shaking with restlessness as Chiv slowly, oh so slowly bottoms out, his arms trembling and his teeth sinking hard into his lip. MacCready feels oddly proud. It’s a moment before Chiv moves again, pulling out halfway and damn if _that_ doesn’t feel weird as hell, leaving him empty and impatient; but then he pushes back in with a shaky little groan and MacCready can barely keep his eyes open under the onslaught of pleasure. He does it again, and again, pulling out further each time until he’s setting a burning pace, and MacCready can feel his whole cock stretching him out and fucking into him from base to tip.

The thought almost ruins him.

His eyes roll back, lashes fluttering and little ragged moans slipping from his mouth, hitched open and drooling as he fights to breathe. All he can focus on is the tightening coil in the pit of his stomach, the unbelievably _deep_ sensation, the perfect stretch that’s making his nerves spark and flash. Each stroke is like a gut-punch of pure pleasure, and he moans and writhes on the bedroll, fingers gripping desperately for something to hold on to. Chiv chuckles breathlessly at his desperation and his dick twitches inside him and MacCready squeezes his eyes shut and whines.

_Good, yeah?_

He can’t answer, but the breathless almost-there in Chiv’s voice drives him that much closer to the edge. His hand finds his cock, hard and leaking all over his own stomach, and Chiv’s long exhale at the sight of him wrecked and touching himself just spurs him on. He opens one eye, lid heavy and fluttering, forces his gaze to focus, throws Chiv a lazy pleasure-slurred grin which turns into clenched teeth and head thrown back as the other man leans down over him to bite at his throat.

_RJ, so...god, you’re so…_

_I am, I am,_ he thinks, and then he can’t think any more; it’s just his hand and Chiv’s cock and the burning, scalding heat in his veins. The coil in his belly is winding tighter, tighter, and he brings his legs up to wrap around Chiv’s hips, feeling the jut of bone beneath his thighs as he squeezes and lifts his back. Chiv’s head drops forward, the ragged ends of the longer hair on the top of his head brushing against MacCready’s ribs, his breath hot and quick across MacCready’s belly; but MacCready can’t feel it, can only feel the intense pulse that rushes through his body at the new angle. The perfect _something_ that Chiv found with his hand is nothing compared to this; the curl and crook of his fingers _nothing_ compared to the long, drawn-out drag of his cock against...whatever it is. MacCready’s completely lost, drowning in pleasure, his jaw locked open and whole body straining with aching tension. He’s moaning nonsense into the heated air between them, strangled half-words and choking moans and he knows it’s not making any sense but he can feel what it’s doing to Chiv, feel his whole body shaking against his as he thrusts harder and faster and _slams_ into MacCready as hard as he can. His fingers are digging into his hips, nails biting into the skin, and his breath is hissing through his clenched teeth.

MacCready’s hand is squeezing up the length of his cock, palm rubbing wet over the head in the twist he likes - but then Chiv is knocking his hand away, replacing it with his own, and he lets out a high surprised moan. His palm is rough, his grip clumsy, but it sends flames up MacCready’s spine as he strokes and squeezes. A drop of sweat slides down the curve of his throat, settles into the hollow of his neck over the frantic beat of his blood. Chiv leans down to lick it away. His all-important no-swearing rule is forgotten; _everything_ is forgotten except the intense heat rushing up through his body in a roar.

_Shit, fuck, shitfuckshit don’t st...oh fuck, please, Chiv, I...that’s it, that’s it, just...oh god, I’m, it’s, oh..._

And it is, it is, and his whole body is on fire and he’s _right there, Chiv, I’mgonnacomeI’mgonna-_

 _C’mon then, handsome, c’mon,_ growls Chiv against his mouth, and RJ does, harder than he’s ever come before, toes curling and fingers gripping and chest heaving and vision fading and a wrecked cry of pleasure tearing from his throat as he shudders and arcs his back until he thinks it might break. Chiv falls over the edge after him, and dimly in the back of his mind MacCready hears him moan his name, but he’s too far gone to do anything but close his eyes and let a whine slip from the back of his throat as he drops back to the bedroll, his head bouncing off the thin material with only a dim registration of pain. He can _feel_ Chiv coming, feel him twitching and jerking and the hot splatter inside, and it’s both the strangest and the best thing he’s ever felt. He moans again, weak and exhausted, barely able to drag enough breath in. Chiv’s arms give out and he drops to one elbow, shaking. MacCready feels like he’s floating, every muscle turned to liquid and his belly a glowing reactor of warmth that still tingles through his nerves. For a long moment they just pant together, sweat-soaked skin cooling in the night air.

MacCready slowly becomes aware of a cramp in his thigh, his back trembling where it arcs up over Chiv’s knees, the other man slumped forward over his chest as he fights to regain his breath. He eases his fingers from where they’ve clenched in the fabric of the bedroll, slowly loosens his white and aching knuckles, runs a clumsy hand down to rub at the tight muscle in his thigh. He shifts, trying to ease the cramp, and Chiv gasps and digs his nails into his hips to hold him still, shaking his head against MacCready’s chest.

_Haa, fuck, gimme a minute._

MacCready tilts his head lazily.

_You okay?_

Chiv just laughs as best he can, breathless and high, and lifts his head to flash his teeth delightedly at the other man.

 _Never better,_ he grins. _But feels like I should be asking you that._ And then bizarrely he hesitates a moment, and his cheekbones flush - bashful, and it’s ridiculous, like he doesn’t still have his softening dick in MacCready’s ass and his come spattered across his stomach. But then he leans forwards and kisses him again, not like before. There’s none of the roughness or the desperation. It’s just soft, and gentle, and unexpected, and MacCready feels his throat tighten and swallows hard.

_Chiv, hey…I...uh..._

Chiv just smiles at him - and this time it’s not a cocky grin, it’s not a sarcastic smirk. It’s a rare, pure, genuine smile, and it lights up his face beneath the scars and makes him look heartbreakingly young.

 _I know,_ comes the murmur. _Me too._

They press their foreheads together for a moment and just breathe, eyes closed and breath soft as it mingles between them. The little alcove with their bedrolls has warmed up, but there’s still a cold chill coming in through the window, the wind driving in the odd smatter of weak raindrops. When one lands on his chest, MacCready shivers, and Chiv pulls back. The movement slips him the rest of the way out, and MacCready winces at the sudden wetness, the sensation new and hard to process...but at the same time it’s deliciously filthy, the knowledge of exactly _what_ that wetness is making him shiver again for an entirely different reason. Chiv doesn’t notice, digs in his pack for a spare scrap of cloth, wipes his stomach down briefly before tossing it to MacCready and discreetly turning away to pull his own clothes back on as he figures out how best to clean up.

 _So. Jamaica Plain in the morning, yeah?_ Chiv turns back as MacCready is dragging on his jeans, a mischievous smirk quirking the corner of his lips. _Although it looks like I already -_

MacCready slits one eye and glares at him as he finds a comfortable position on the bedroll.

_Make a joke about having already found the treasure and I’m gonna punch you._

Chiv just laughs, but shuts his mouth again, and MacCready rolls his eyes. His shi- crappy jokes are too predictable. But there’s a glow in his chest, a tightness in his throat as Chiv settles down behind him, drags him close, pulls the other half of the bedroll over the two of them. Chiv groans low and deep, a self-satisfied cats-purr, and rolls his body against him as he stretches. His lips brush against the top of MacCready’s spine in what could have been a kiss...if Chiv had been that sort of sappy guy.

MacCready’s lip twitches in a smile. He’s already starting to drift into sleep, his body fully relaxed for the first time in months, safe and warm and sated. Tomorrow it’s Jamaica Plain, and Ferals; the day after, the scrapyard and Super Mutants; after that, the city, and Raiders. It never ends, out here. Never safe, never secure, never more than a minute from danger.

But he’s got Chiv now.

And Chiv’s got him.

They sigh, and shift, and press tighter together on the bedroll. Chiv’s hand runs soothingly up his thigh, ghosts over his hip, tucks tight beneath his slender waist. It’s been a very long time since either of them have had someone like this. Someone to protect, and be protected by; someone to love, and be loved by. Chiv buries his face in the back of MacCready’s neck and breathes in the scent of his hair to hide his smile. The rain outside has faded into the background, a droning constant that lulls them both deeper into exhaustion. MacCready’s chest is rising and falling evenly, deeply, the tendrils of sleep creeping in around the edges of his mind and dragging him down into soft, warm darkness.

But there’s one last thing before they let sleep claim them. After today’s tension - the Gunners, the bad memories, the self-doubt and the guilt and the fear - it’s a thought he thinks is too important to let go.

He isn’t sure if he says it out loud; and if he does, his voice is sleep-slurred and soft, half mumbled into the fabric of the sleeping bag. Whether Chiv is awake to hear it is another question entirely. But as he slips over into oblivion he feels an answering squeeze to his waist, and his heart jumps a little beneath the jut of his ribs. Things are gonna be different from now on, sure; and that’s a little frightening. But...

  
_With you at my side, I feel like I could take on the whole world._

**Author's Note:**

> Kicking my writer’s block in the ass the best way I know how; with PWP and self-indulgent fluff.
> 
> This is actually something I started ages ago, way back before I started my long-form fic, but I found it in my documents and decided to finish. This was initially just an exploration of writing styles; I wanted to play around with a Cormac McCarthy-style dialogue system (no speech marks) and try writing in a tense I don’t usually work with but, uh...it turned into a good ol’ PWP fairly quickly hahaha. The style’s a bit ‘experimental’ in places but hopefully you still got a kick out of it.
> 
> This is NOT part of ‘Chivalry,’ this doesn’t happen in that story - this is based on my first playthrough when I romanced MacCready for the first time in the church just outside Hyde Park, whilst Chiv’s character was still in development, so some stuff might not quite match up with his ‘official’ backstory in ‘Chivalry.’ Just take this as a standalone thing.
> 
> Either way, I hope you liked it! Please check out my ongoing fic ‘Chivalry’ for a longer story about these two. You can also find me, and a little content of the boys, on [tumblr!](http://whatshappeningcowboy.tumblr.com/)


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